Stubbornness has many guises
by Misty Dreamer
Summary: Meg Thatcher is undercover abroad, and it all goes horribly, horribly wrong. And what happened after. Told in 100 word snapshots.
1. Abroad

Intense blue eyes bored hard into hers, but Margaret Thatcher was not going to give in and divulge what she knew.

"Bitch," growled her captor, fetching her another nasty smack with something cold and hard, probably an iron bar. Meg could only hope that she would have the strength of will to stay silent until help arrived.

Her cover was broken, through no misstep of hers. Blue eyes, she reminded herself sternly. The ones in front of her now burned with hatred; the ones she saw were as determined, as implacable, but gentle and caring, or shrouded in confused pain.


	2. Rescue

She must have blacked out. When she came round, there was gunfire nearby. Screaming wasn't an option; in all likelihood it would only bring one of her captors and that would spell death in nasty capital letters. And Meg Thatcher wasn't quite ready to die.

The gunfire ceased and she could hear heavy footsteps nearby, but couldn't identify the owners. Hanging, with her arms wrenched cruelly behind her back, she closer her eyes and waited patiently for some further developments.

She couldn't see the door when it burst open and the men in army fatigues stepped through. They saved her.


	3. Halfway Home

"Sir?" Meg asked a few weeks later, "how did you know?"

"Know what?" the man shot back.

"Where I was, for one."

"Let's just say that when the Ice Queen's reports were overdue, we knew that something was up. The rest was simply a matter of academics."

Meg glanced down at her hands folded neatly in her lap. 'The boss's' tone was firm and his expression closed; no more information would be forthcoming.

"You'll be back in Canada before the week's out; even here you are not completely safe."

"Yes, Sir." Meg stood and saluted before hastening out the door.


	4. Safe House

Meg almost screamed with frustration and boredom. Three months, three months she had to stay here, effectively under house arrest, in the middle of nowhere and with nothing worth reading. It was as if she was being held prisoner as a reward for risking her life.

It was for her own safety though: the triple coded reports that she'd sent out weekly had been both highly damning and illuminating. She swore to bully her shrink into getting a stack of books sent to her.

A new wardrobe would have to wait until she was let loose on the world again.


	5. Freedom at Last

She still had scars, she still paid weekly visits to her shrink, some people still wished her dead, but Meg Thatcher didn't mind. She was free, free for the first time in six years to be Meg Thatcher, former RCMP Inspector and CSIS officer, able to walk down Toronto's familiar streets without scrutiny.

She wondered whether she should try to contact any of her former friends and colleagues, but doubted that many would welcome her reappearance: what could she say? She'd vanished from their lives without warning and wasn't free to say where she'd been or what she'd been doing.


	6. So Much for Being Stubborn

The sun shone brightly in the clear blue sky and the city was warm. Children ran riot in shorts and T-shirts while their frantic parents tried to reapply sun-cream at the recommended intervals. A dark-haired woman sat in silence on a shaded bench, an open book on her lap, unheeded.

Her long, loose sleeves, gathered at the wrist, hid the scars there and her sunglasses concealed from passersby the haunted look that sometimes crept into her eyes. Meg Thatcher was well and truly alone in the mass of humanity.

"So much for being stubborn," she thought bitterly.


	7. I Don't Believe You

The man with the white dog trotting neatly at his heels stopped and gazed across the lake. The dog sat and followed his companion's gaze for a few minutes before looking round.

"No, how many times have I told you, we don't know anyone here," the man said quietly, turning to face the dog.

The dog whined in reply.

"It can't be her."

Another, more insistent whine.

"No, if you must, you can introduce yourself; pretend you're begging for a doughnut or something, just don't involve me." He turned resolutely back to face across the lake; Diefenbaker really was incorrigible.


	8. Recognition

Meg barely spared the white dog a second glance; she didn't know anyone who had a dog, at least not for six years, and that was impossible. When the dog came closer and forced her to notice it by pushing her book out of her lap, she got a jolt of surprise.

"Where is he?" she asked, remembering to move her lips more than she would usually.

The dog turned his head to point out the man gazing across the lake. He was the same, she realised with a jolt; he looked exactly as he had, years ago, in Chicago.


	9. Friends

They were friends, as they always had been. Their strange friendship clouded with unexpressed feelings, with confusion. But it felt good to be able to talk with someone, to reminisce to their shared past; to live the last six years through him; to share in his happiness at his sister's marriage; to congratulate him on his (long overdue in her opinion) promotion to Sergeant.

He never asked her what she'd been doing; clearly he remembered what she'd said when they left the consulate: "I've been given an assignment abroad; I won't be in touch." Somehow he'd understood the implied meaning.


End file.
